hours, 'e came up to this 'ere _Cauliflower_ and offered Bob the fifteen
pounds.

"Wot's this for?" ses Bob.

"For finding my cat," ses George.

"Look here," ses Bob, handing it back, "I've 'ad enough o' your insults;
I don't know where your cat is."

"I mean for trying to find it, Bob," ses George Barstow.

"Oh, well, I don't mind that," ses Bob, taking it. "I'm a 'ard-working
man, and I've got to be paid for my time; it's on'y fair to my wife and
children. I'll start now."

He finished up 'is beer, and while the other chaps was telling George
Barstow wot a fool he was Joe Clark slipped out arter Bob Pretty and
began to call 'im all the names he could think of.

"Don't you worry," ses Bob; "the cat ain't found yet."

"Is it dead?" ses Joe Clark, 'ardly able to speak.

"'Ow should I know?" ses Bob; "that's wot I've got to try and find out.
That's wot you gave me your furniture for, and wot George Barstow gave me
the fifteen pounds for, ain't it? Now, don't you stop me now, 'cos I'm
goin' to begin looking."

He started looking there and then, and for the next two or three days
George Barstow and Joe Clark see 'im walking up and down with his 'ands
in 'is pockets looking over garden fences and calling "Puss." He asked
everybody 'e see whether they 'ad seen a white cat with one blue eye and
one yaller one, and every time 'e came into the _Cauliflower_ he put his
'ead over the bar and called "Puss," 'cos, as 'e said, it was as likely
to be there as anywhere else.

It was about a week after the cat 'ad disappeared that George Barstow was
standing at 'is door talking to Joe Clark, who was saying the cat must be
dead and 'e wanted 'is property, when he sees a man coming up the road
carrying a basket stop and speak to Bill Chambers. Just as 'e got near
them an awful "miaow" come from the basket and George Barstow and Joe
Clark started as if they'd been shot.

"He's found it?" shouts Bill Chambers, pointing to the man.

"It's been living with me over at Ling for a week pretty nearly," ses the
man. "I tried to drive it away several times, not knowing that there was
fifteen pounds offered for it."

George Barstow tried to take 'old of the basket.

"I want that fifteen pounds fust," ses the man.

"That's on'y right and fair, George," ses Bob Pretty, who 'ad just come
up. "You've got all the luck, mate. We've been hunting 'igh and low for
that cat for a week."

Then George Barstow tried to explain to the